


Heir of the Sith

by Lord_of_Void



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Dark Ezra Bridger, Dark Leia Organa, Ezra Bridger Gets a Hug, Ezra Bridger Needs a Hug, Gen, Graphic depiction of torture, How Do I Tag, Hurt No Comfort, No Fluff, Padawan Luke Skywalker, Post-Star Wars Rebels: The Siege of Lothal, Rebel Alliance (Star Wars), Sith, Sith (species), Sith Ezra Bridger, Sith Holocrons (Star Wars), Somewhat Starkiller story arc, evantually, mostly - Freeform, will add tags later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:47:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28774809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_of_Void/pseuds/Lord_of_Void
Summary: One Twi’lek, one Mandalorian, one Lasat, one droid and two Jedi arrived on Lothal to rescue minister Tua.One Twi’lek, one Mandalorian, one Lasat, one droid and one Jedi left Lothal in sorrow.-----One Grand moff and one Sith lord came to Lothal to fight rebels.One Grand moff and one Sith lord and his prisoner left Lothal in victory.
Relationships: Ezra Bridger & Darth Vader, Ezra Bridger & Leia Organa, Ezra Bridger & The Ghost Crew
Comments: 12
Kudos: 27





	1. Capture

**Author's Note:**

> I like the idea of master&apprentice relationship of Ezra and Vader and just after The Siege of Lothal was (at least for me) the best place to start with a story with such a plot.
> 
> I have storyline of this planned, so while it's not completely written I know what will happen in this story.
> 
> Also, this is new betad version [26. 1. 2021]

One  Twi’lek , one Mandalorian, one  Lasat , one droid and two Jedi  arrived  on Lothal to rescue minister Tua.

One Twi’lek, one Mandalorian, one Lasat, one droid and one Jedi left Lothal in sorrow .

\-----

One Grand Moff and one Sith lord came to Lothal to fight rebels.

One Grand Moff and one Sith lord and his prisoner left Lothal in victory.

\-----

Ezra hated the small cell they locked him in , he was  angry at his  captor s for locking him up in that cell and mostly  he was angry at himself for letting that happen.

So not Jedi of him.

He pounded his  fists on the metal door of his cell.  Of course , it stayed locked, but it at least made him feel a little better.

“Let me out of here, you  molds !” he yelled at the door but doubted anyone heard him. 

And then another kick landed on the door. He would already open that blasted  thing if he could access the Force; the moment  the Empire had him, they placed a collar around his neck that apparently prevented him from accessing the Force. 

The door opened with a hiss. 

Ezra jumped forth in an attempt of  escaping.  Unsuccessfully.  Strong gloved hands caught him and  threw him back to his cell.

Ezra  grunted and lifted his head, eyes examining the  unreadable mask of Darth Vader.

“Careful, little one,” Vader  growled, “or you might get yourself hurt.”

“You know, if you let me out sometimes, I might not rush so much next time,” Ezra snapped back.

“I might actually surprise you, because that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m letting you out.”

“So, I can go back to my crew, right?” Ezra asked sheepishly.

“No, but I figured something . Come with me. ”

With those words Vader left Ezra’s cell. Ezra hesitated. It could be a trap leading to something extremely unpleasant, but defying the  Sith lord could result in pain or other punishment. And he desperately wanted to get out of that cell.

He slowly  peeked out of the door expecting a blaster or perhaps even lightsaber pointed at him, but nothing. Only Vader standing aside and impatiently waiting for him.

“Are you done with your examination?” Vader asked. He started sounding rather irritated.

“ How do I know you won’t kill me, hurt me or something else if I do with you?”

“You don’t,” the  Sith answered, “but you have to trust me.”

Ezra frowned at that but stepped out of the cell. Vader then led him through a labyrinth of stone corridors until they reached something that could be called an atrium and then outside.

Ezra  looked around the castle across the barren fiery ground of Mustafar.

“I am _ not _ impressed,” he proclaimed , “but it makes sense you live here . It ’s  as  repulsing  as you are.”

Apparently , Vader held his word about not hurting Ezra , because he only growled in response .

“ I did not bring you here to show you the landscape of Mustafar , ” Vader  said, “but  to show you the power of the dark side. I dare to say I understand you, Ezra Bridger. You want power to protect and I can give you that power.”

Ezra looked Vader dead in one of his red lenses. “And I’m a nephew of the emperor.”

“You have no idea what you are giving up.”

“I have a pretty wild imagination. Or what are you going to show me? Reviving dead? Turning planets into space dust with nothing but your will?” Ezra teased Vader. The  Sith lord just stood there and waited.

“ It may or may not surprise you, all of these things are possible, under certain circumstances . But now -“ Vader turned his back to Ezra and looked around, “ -now I will show you something far  simpler and I expect you to react properly.”

One of Ezra’s eyebrows shot upwards . 

Vader reached with one of his hands up.  Nothing happened for a long time , but eventually Ezra saw something grey  penetrate  clouds and it grew bigger.

Then realization came. Vader was  pulling whole a Star Destroyer at them!

The collar around Ezra’s neck clicked and fell . The Force crashed into Ezra and he was suddenly aware of everything.

“Stop it ,” Vader ordered.

“What if I don’t ?” Ezra challenged.

“Then I won’t let you die for a very long time.”

Fine, stopping a falling Star destroyer seemed more  pleasant than  Vader fulfilling his threat.

He planted his feet and  both his hand shot upwards. The ship didn’t slow down , despite Ezra  focusing all his will  in stopping it. 

He wasn’t trying to stop  it; he was stopping it.

He wasn’t trying, he was doing.

He was doing it and successfully!

A small growl escaped his lips.

The Star destroyer had TO STOP!

The ship stopped in the air maybe  half a kilometer above Ezra and Vader. 

But Ezra wasn’t finished with it. Under his fierce concentration the ship  began  toshake more and more. Then it exploded. 

Pieces of scrap and rubble  were falling all around missing only Ezra and Vader .

Suddenly, Ezra felt weak. His legs gave up and he fell to the ground shivering with cold on the surface of the hot lava planet. Where was the overwhelming energy filling his veins instead of blood?

Steps. A shadow fell over him .

“See what you did? And that’s only a fragment of  the power the dark side  offers ,” Vader said. Ezra had a feeling he was smiling. “You already are very powerful, Ezra Bridger, but with  it , you would be unstoppable.”

Ezra pondered the offer. On one hand, he might be powerful enough  to take down the Empire that hurt him so much. On the other, he would have to stay with Vader and not with the Ghost crew.

“You know,” Ezra replied, “it all sounds nice and fun but no, thanks. I will rather return to my crew. They need me right now,  not when I’m more powerful.”

He slowly stood up, dusted off his trousers and looked around.

“ Your return to your crew is not possible ,” Vader said and  gripped Ezra’s shoulder . His grip was so strong that Ezra yelped in pain.

“You will stay here and until you change your mind, you will not be permitted to go outside your cell!”

With those words Vader led Ezra back inside the fortress and to small stone cell. But to Ezra’s surprise he didn’t give him the collar back and he still could feel the Force.

\-----

It was easy. Maybe too easy. And he should have realized that  sooner.

With the Force back, he unlocke d the door , smacked the stormtrooper guard against a wall and ran. On his way he picked up a blaster. Those stormtroopers, who  weren’t thrown with the Force were  shot. When he reached the landing platform with an intention of stealing a shuttle he had seen before, he found Vader.

The man stood right in front of the main  entrance, his arms crossed  over his chest.

“It seems you can use an opportunity well, when you are given one,” Vader stated, “but tell me, Bridger, was it necessary to kill my men? Or did all your Jedi morals abando n you so soon ? ”

No. That wasn’t possible! He had tried to shoot troopers in a way to disable them! And  surely, he hadn’t been able to throw them strongly enough to kill?! 

But Vader didn’t seem to be lying. What more Ezra was literally able to feel Vader’s statement in the Force. And he hated it. The realization fell on him like a thick heavy curtain. He killed them! Those could easily be more than fifty people and he killed them all!

He felt weak. His knees gave up and he fell to the ground, shuddering, a few tears running down his face.

Something touched his shoulder, loud breath behind his neck. Vader!

A loud cr y of pain and rage and the touch on his shoulder was gone. And so was the Sith lord.

Ezra looked around. Vader was few meters away, lifting himself from the ground. Ezra had thrown him! He had thrown the  Sith  kriffing lord!

Ezra stood up, face turned to the  Sith , upper lip curled with anger. 

“Impressive,” Vader said and to Ezra’s dismay sounded pleased. “But now I need you  a little more submissive.”

Then Ezra felt a phantom pressure  on his neck. He couldn’t breathe. And even with all his willpower he couldn’t get it away. It didn’t take long for him to black out. 

\-----

He  was standing in  a  giant hall.  Its walls were made of stone lined with  purple curtains. 

In front of him stood… him, but younger. He couldn’t be older than seven, as he wore clothes, he had last on his seventh birthday. Those big bright blue eyes stared at him with such intensity it made him nervous. Was normally his gaze like that? Intense and unwavering; unnerving?

His younger self  came closer to him.

“Don't forget, who you are.”

\-----

He woke up in his cell. Again. But what was new, was a table he was strapped to. It looked like one he found Kanan on. 

At least he could still reach the Force. 

As he reached out , he felt a dark presence nearing his cell, but it wasn’t any close to the overwhelming darkness of Vader. 

And then the door of his cell opened. Inside stepped a black clad woman with a helmet covering her face. Her attire was indicating that she was an  iInquisitor .

“What are you doing here? Vader’s got tired of me? ” Ezra asked , smug grin appearing on his face.

“I don’t know, if he’s tired of you, but I  was told to have some fun.”

She trailed her fingers across his cheek.

“You have such a beautiful face,” she purred,  “I will enjoy destroying it .”

“Talking about face,” Ezra said thoughtfully, “ I still haven’t seen yours.”

At that the Inquisitor tapped left side of her helmet and the visor split open.  Ezra was suddenly looking  into a face of  Mirialan some might call pretty.  Only that cruel  grin was  ruining the whole  impression.

“I think we can start now,”  the inquisitor cooed. 

Ezra  suppressed an urge to snort at her. She acted as if he was her toy or something !

But he wasn’t able to defend himself. Tied to the table, only to be tortured. He could do nothing, but  watch as she brought the electrodes to him and turned them on.

He cried in pain. The involuntary movement of his muscles was almost more  painful than the energy burning through his body.

It stopped. A f ew tears ran down his cheeks, only the restraints were holding him standing.

If only he wasn’t tied up, he might even hurt her. 

“Don’t cry,” she whispered softly, “you look ugly.”

“Still better than you,” Ezra snickered. 

The Inquisitor’s cruel smile shifted to a frown . A hand landed on Ezra’s left cheek with a terrible smacking sound. 

“You will treat me with respect, boy,” the Mirialan growled, “or I will dismember you.”

“I’m not sure how would Vader take that news,” Ezra said contemplating the  inquisitor’s  threat. Vader might want him as an apprentice, but he probably didn’t need him whole. 

“You know,” the inquisitor smiled coldly, “he personally told me I could cut  off  one of your hands.”

With those words she  switched on her lightsaber and placed the blade dangerously close to Ezra’s right hand. He could feel the heat of it through his clothes. 

The blade got even closer. His jacket caught on fire.

Pain spread across his forearm and a strained cry escaped his lips, rage  filling  his heart at the sight of the laughing inquisitor. 

As the fire reached his  elbow, the  Mirialan pulled from somewhere a bottle of water and poured all its  contents on Ezra’s hand. 

The boy sighed in relief as the cool liquid caressed his burned limb.  How bad it was, even?

Looking at it  was a mistake. Where the sleeve was burned off, he could see red and black charred flesh, blood slowly oozing out of it.

“It looks nasty,  doesn’t it? ” the inquisitor said  obviously pleased with herself. 

“And it would take long time for it to  heal-” her fingers  trailed the edge of burned sleeve “-and I will have to do something about that. ”

The sound of lightsaber igniting, a searing pain, another ear-piercing cry. 

Ezra stared in disbelief at a stump that used to be his forearm. She did it! She really cut  off  his arm!  That… No…  Wh …

Anger, as  burning in his heart as pain in his hand, replaced his disbelief, his remaining fist clenched. There was a loud thud as the inquisitor crashed into the wall clawing at her neck as if she could breathe. And then Ezra realized she really couldn’t and it was him who caused that. 

He  savored the feeling of power  flowing through his veins as he squeezed the life out of her.  He might be bound and  crippled but he was the one  with upper hand. 

Ezra felt as  the life faded out of the inquisitor.  Her body fell to the ground,  unmoving. Just lying there. Not getting up. Dead.  Ezra’s  breath quickened.  Dead. He killed her. Dead. Unmoving. What would Kanan say?  Dead.  Maybe she will stand up and laugh at him. No, dead. He killed her.  His binds were squeezing him.  Breath. Breathe! No, he’s dying too.  In a small cell, suffocated by his binds and his  own clothes.  No. No! Dead.

The table Ezra was strapped to  exploded. He fell to the ground. Just like her. Dead.  The door  of his cell  was thrust away and crushed to the opposite wall. Just like her. And he ran and ran and ran.

\-----

Darth Vader opened his eyes as he felt the death of the inquisitor.  Then  felt waves of chaotic  Force  apparently  coming out of the boy, Ezra.  It didn’t  surprise him much . But he  should find the boy, before he did something stupid. 

He found Ezra on top of  the castle  on one of  the spires overlooking the lava river. 

And he was sleeping.

Vader reached out with the Force and deepened Ezra’s sleep. He picked him up and noticed a severed limb. His thoughts flew to memories of a boy not much older than Ezra. 

\-----

Ezra woke up in a completely unfamiliar room. Sharp lights,  humming tech and a comfy bed.  Comfy bed? No, he wasn’t on the Ghost then, those bunks weren’t this  soft.

He looked around. It was some sort of medbay, the walls same black stone as before. Still Mustafar, then. He ran  his hand through his hair trying to remember what exactly happened. 

The inquisitor,  the top of the castle… No, he couldn’t find what happened next.

The inquisitor! And his hand!

His eyes fell on  a surprisingly elegant  mechanical hand. His hand.  He moved it. It worked, responded to every command of his mind and yet… yet  it didn’t feel like his, like a part of him. It was alien to h im.

The door to the medbay opened.  The familiar sound of loud periodic  breaths. Ezra lifted his head and  looked  in the lenses of Darth Vader’s  mask, anger  burning in his eyes.

“ I didn’t  come to harm you, little one,” Vader said and stayed standing in  the doorway. 

“So , you’ll send another minion to do the dirty work for you?” Ezra snapped  back. Vader noticed he instinctively hugged  his right hand.

“I did  _ not _ grant the Seventh sister permission to mutilate you,” Vader said angrily, “nor I would ever do that. The end she met at your hands was far too nice for her deed.”

He might even sound concerned had not the vocoder in his helmet transformed into menacing growl. For a moment Ezra thought what would Vader sound like confessing his love to someone and despite his effort a small smile appeared on his lips. That, of course, didn’t go past a surprisingly perceptive  Sith lord. One would think those two lenses were restrictive in his vision.

“Am I supposed to take your smile as an approval of what I would do to the Seventh sister?” Vader growled. Was that surprise in his voice?

“I, in fact, don’t approve,” Ezra snapped back. “And I’m ashamed that I even killed her like that.” He looked away, his jaw clenched, eyes blinked rapidly to fight off the tears.

“Why?”

“Because killing in anger is not the Jedi way. Jedi should not kill unless it’s really necessary.”

“And yet, the Dark side comes to you easily, naturally even. It’s more part of you than light and you are still clinging to the ways of the Jedi,” Vader retorted. Ezra was sure he was enjoying himself.

“Tell me,  _ little Jedi _ ,” he continued, “what would your master say, had he known you used the Dark side? That you killed with it.”

Ezra scowled in anger. Then he told himself to calm down; getting angry was exactly what Vader wanted from him. But wouldn’t it be delightful to launch himself at the dark lord to harm him? Rip that mask of his face, scratch it till he would bleed, take his eyes, tear the Sith lord apart piece by piece. No! He should stay calm. He was working so hard on managing his emotions with Kanan, he wouldn’t throw it away for just some annoying guy. He wouldn’t divert from Kanan’s teachings even more.

“You’re almost adorable,” Vader growled, “trying to reign in your endless ocean of emotions. I can feel how much you desire to feel them, but Jedi don’t do that, do they? All those years you spent on the streets you lived with  your fear and anger, they helped you survive, only to agree to an offer of a Jedi to give them up.”

“He taught me how to be a better person, to help those in need. If not acting on those emotions is part of it, then so be it,” Ezra replied. His voice trembled with barely contained anger. It would be so, so easy to release it.

And then Vader caught a glimpse of red and bright blue in  Bridger’s hair. Two colorful beads. The boy had a padawan braid, such a devotion to the fallen orde r from just a street rat. Vader smiled behind his mask. If Briger was capable of such loyalty, he would be great asset, once Vader broke him.

Vader reached out to Ezra grasping the braid in his left gloved hand. Ezra tried to pull away but he was held on his place.

“I am correct, when I say, that you know, what that is, right?” Vader said, Ezra’s braid firmly in his hand. Nothing, but silence from to boy.

“Answer me,” Vader growled, his anger slowly rising. His hand painfully tugged at the braid.

“Fine,” Ezra spat at him, “I know what it is. It’s a padawan braid.”

“It’s a sign of Jedi apprentice,” Vader added, “and since you’re here, you don’t need it.”

With those words the  Sith swiftly jerked his hand away from Ezra and as the boy was held in his place, the braid was ripped out. 

Ezra yelped in pain and touched the place, where the braid was. When he looked at his fingers again, they were stained with blood.

Vader’s eyes fell on the braid in his hand. Memories, which he thought buried, of another padawan braid in the hand of another man flooded his consciousness. But Anakin Skywalker was dead! Despite the man’s memories still plaguing Vader’s mind.

Darth Vader looked back at Briger. The boy hugged his legs to his chest, few tears ran down from his eyes. He appeared so broken. But what was broken could be  rebuild. And he would rebuild  Ezra Briger into a powerful  Sith .

\-----

He was back in his old cell. Again. At least the inquisitor’s corpse was gone.  And to his surprise Vader gave him a datapad and a stylus.  But then it made sense, he needed to get used to his new hand and  something as simple as drawing could help. 

It was three meals later (there was no way he could count time in days) when Vader showed up. 

He  examined the boy in front of him for a moment. He sat on the corner looking straight in front of him but in the Force , Vader could see he was aware of him.  Bridger was deliberately ignoring him!

“Get up,” Vader ordered in voice reserved for annoying officers he had yet to execute.  No response from Bridger.

Vader reached out with the Force and  seized Bridger's throat .  The boy  yelped in surprise. Vader could see as Briger struggled in his grip, gasping for breath and desperately fighting his hands from coming to his neck.

Ezra fell to the ground coughing and gasping for  breath. As he rubbed his neck he looked to the Vader, anger in his eyes.

“Now,” Vader growled , “get up and follow me. ”

Ezra hesitated. But then, what use would be in defying the  Dark Lord? It would bring only more pain and discomfort. Or maybe, maybe… No. There was no point in resistance anymore.

He slowly  stood  up. 

And  perhaps… Perhaps he would even learn something  useful. 

\-----

Two  standard months.

That had been how long it took for Ezra to get used to his new hand, to make it work as if it was still the flesh one. And while he hadn’t been able to train  with a lightsaber, it didn’t stop him from training in the Force.

Slowly, he understood what had Vader meant when he  had been talking about the power of the Dark  side. He felt alive, like someone unbound his hands, took the pressure of off his chest so he could breathe . He felt free.

And wasn’t that what Sith strove for? 

But he wasn’t a Sith, he was a Jedi! And yet, if he truly was a Jedi, then he shouldn’t let himself feel that much, let his emotions strengthen him. As a Jedi apprentice, he tried to suppress his constant low-key anger he had  learnt t o maintain. That anger that helped him out of many nasty situations whilst he lived on the streets. It had always warned him of d angers and helped him be aware of what was going on. Then Kanan had  come  and he had had to learn to let go of his emotions. That awareness, instincts guiding him for such a long time had been gone and he had had to l earn a new , harder way.

Until he ended up on Mustafar and  dug deep into himself.

\-----

The door opened, a wave of cold crashing  into Ezra. He lifted his head from a  datapad to see Darth Vader entering his room.

When he had accepted his new life on  Mustafar , Vader had him transferred from the c ell to a  quite nice room. The o nly thing , that Ezra could complain about, was, that all the furniture was black; combined with dark colored walls it made the room look unfriendly. 

“Master?” Ezra asked when Vader stopped in the middle of the room, his head tilted slightly to the left.

“Oh, come on,” Ezra  sighed, “I’ve told you already I’m not  kneeling to you.”

An invisible force took  Ezra from  the cozy corner of his bed and yanked him to the ground.  On his knees, right at Vader’s feet.

“ But as  _ I  _ told you  already, I expect  you to at least address me properly and  to  comply,” Vader  hissed menacingly .  A  quiet growl  sounded from the back of Ezra’s throat.

“Now, get up and follow me,” the Sith ordered. Before he left Ezra’s room, he could he ar a silent ‘Yes, master.’

\-----

Ezra remembered those  corridors, dark corridors made of rough stone and  leading to the cells.  Cold ran down his spine. It had been months since he had been there the last time.  Since…

His  right fist clenched. 

Did Vader  have  to lead him there? Was he… Was he going to lock up Ezra again? 

They stopped in front  of durasteel door. Ezra sensed a  dimmed  presence in  the  Force.

“Behind that door is a test for you. A task  I expect you to execute flawlessly. ”

A motion of Vader’s right hand and the door opened. Inside  Ezra saw a  Twi’lek female dressed  in cream - colored robes and tied to  the wall.  Ezra recognized those  binds; they were the same as those Vader restrained him with the first time. She seemed  tired and weak.

“K ill her,” Vader  commanded and shoved  Ezra inside. 

“Why ?” Ezra questioned . 

When Vader looked at him and found only sincere curiousness, the answer came: “She is a Jedi and I want you to take her lightsaber.”

Another gesture and the Jedi’s restraints opened. Her eyes grew wide with fear. Will the young man, boy even, kill her? After all his Force presence while mostly dark still held remnants of light. But if she made it look like an act of mercy, his soul wouldn’t be damned more than it already was, right? Then she remembered what the  Sith lord had told her; she would be put against a challenge and if she succeeded, he would set her free. Was this the challenge? And she still had her lightsaber clipped to her belt. But the boy...

She lunged forward, her lightsaber flew to her hand, igniting. The boy ducked under her blow and rolled to the side. She might have seen a flash of fear in his face but then she could only see a cold determination to carry out his orders to the end. But he wasn’t armed, she had a chance. And yet, before she could even swing her blade again, the boy raised his hands, penetrated through her shield  as if it was made of  flimsiplast and she flew back until her back hit the wall. Her lightsaber was ripped out of her hand and landed in the boy’s hand; the blade was still ignited. So that was how she would die? By her own lightsaber in the hands of a  Sithling ? 

A lone tear trickled from her eye.

She hoped it was hesitation what she saw in the boy when he raised her lightsaber to strike her down. Maybe he wouldn’t be damned, after all.

\-----

Ezra watched as the body of a Jedi released from his hold slumped to the ground. He couldn’t look away from the long gash that ran from the Jedi’s neck to her left side. He did that to her! He killed her with her own weapon! He killed her on Vader’s orders! What would Kanan say? And would he even say anything or just  charge at him with an ignited lightsaber?

Ignited lightsaber... He still held the Jedi’s weapon in his hand.

He switched it off and the yellow blade retracted back to the hilt. He was about to examine the hilt closely when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

Moment of panic. Was Vader displeased with him? Will he get hurt again?

“You did well, apprentice,” Vader stated. His grip on Ezra’s shoulder was firm but not painful. Was actually proud of Ezra?

“Thank you, master,” Ezra replied with quavering voice.

\-----

He observed as the yellow glowing crystal rose from his hand. It was shaking.

He focused at the crystal, examined it through the Force as Vader had instructed him. Then he pressed, forcing his emotions on the crystal, channeling his pain and anger like a sharp blade. Did he hear a crack or was it just in his mind? It could be his skull as his head pounded. He closed his eyes; a growl escaped his lips. 

Vader had told him that  Sith in order to create a lightsaber had to bleed their crystals. Bend them to their will, break them.

A flash of light that blinded him even with closed eyes. Something fell to his hand. His crystal!

When he looked at it, he saw it was pulsing with bright red light. He could feel anguish in the Force. He had  broken it! 

For a brief moment his thoughts wandered to his  own lightsaber. He could  never imagine he would do something like that to it.

\-----

He felt powerful. That was the only way he could describe the feeling of  cold burning his veins , the feeling of flight as he held his new weapon in hand. Even when he lost every fight against  Vader it felt awesome.  With every blow, every swing of his lightsaber his skills and strength grew. 

He had not been able to best Kanan before but then, then he was sure he could. And maybe the Inquisitor as well, had he still been alive. 

Yes, Vader was difficult to spar with, but it was worth it.


	2. The death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Ezra stood on a landing platform in front of Vader’s castle and examined a ship  a little smalle r in size than The Ghost landed in there. He had never  seen a ship like that before, but that didn’t mean anything as he hadn’t seen many  ships. 

This one was quite elegant with two front parts with the cockpit in the middle and two somewhat TIE-like wings on the sides. A boarding ramp was visible in the back. The whole ship seemed quite roomy; why would he need such a big ship? At least Vader taught him, how to fly. Not that Hera... No, don’t think about her! It will only hurt.

“Is the ship to your liking?” Vader inquired, as he watched the boy e xamine  the vessel.

“Do I get to complain?” Ezra asked. Vader tilted his head slightly to the right in expectation.

“Fine. Why is that ship so big? Will I be hauling cargo or something?”

“No, I don’t plan to have you haul cargo, but  this ship is far more easily dismissed because of her look as a freighter and not some interceptor,” the Sith lord explained. Yes, that made sense.

“And since I know  you, that you can fly,” Vader continued, “you will go an assignment.”

Ezra’s eyebrows shot upwards. Was Vader really letting him go? To the galaxy, never to return to this damned lava rock? And then it dawned on him. He would return. He would always return to Vader, because despite how much he hated living on  Mustafar , he  had come  to call it home.

“So, this  _ assignment _ , as you call it?”

Vader might have sighed, but that is quite difficult to do, when you have a machine breathing for you. “There is an admiral  above the planet  Serenno and he will be staying there for another week. He’s plotting  against me  in hope of replacing my place with the emperor. Eliminate him.”

Ezra pondered for a moment on his orders. He would kill, assassinate, someone for Darth Vader. For the second in command in the entire Empire. Had he renounced all his ideals  the short time with The Ghost crew gave him? And to his dismay, the answer was yes. He did. He was someone new, different. More powerful. And if Vader had spoken truth when he had presented Ezra with his plan for dethroning the emperor, he would gladly end up covered  in the blood  of many.

“I will, master,” Ezra said aloud and boarded his new ship heading immediately for the cockpit. He would explore her later. 

As the ship lifted itself from the landing platform, he fished in his memory for the name Vader gave the ship. Rogue Shadow.

\-----

When the ship flew through the bright blue tunnel of the hyperspace, there was little need for Ezra to stay in the cockpit, thus he could begin his search. A large part of the ship was taken up by something that could be called a training room, but he could store something there, if needed. Then there was a meditation chamber, a cargo  hold on  its own, bunk rooms and a small galley. Yeah, small galley, but he had enough supplies for two months. Did Vader think he was  gonna crash the ship and end up stuck on some backwater deserted planet? Probably.

Fine, he had about two days before he reached  Serenno . Two days to do nothing. Alright, he could sit in the cockpit and stare into hyperspace . Or perhaps, he could meditate, but he still needed someone (him) to make sure something didn’t go wrong, which, considering his past indeed  _ full of luck _ , was improbable.

So, he would sit in the cockpit and try to kill some time.

As he seated himself in the pilot’s chair and propped his feet on the control panel, an idea formed in his head. He reached out with his left hand and grabbed a  datapad . Time to find out, what The Empire had on him.

He typed “Ezra Bridger” and waited. Then paled. But of course, it made sense. No more rebels trying to find him, absolute confusion to other people who saw him. But it still hurt. Maybe there was another way than Vader writing official report on his death. But what way? Nothing else, but for his family to see him die, would stop them. 

And were they even still his family? He definitely called them like that in his thoughts. Thoughts he didn’t want to resurface again. They only brought pain and shame. No, they would never want him back. And if they ever got a chance to meet him, they would condemn him for his choices,  if only for the fact, he had killed a Jedi. An ally, a comrade. Kanan might hate him. Oh, yes, he definitely would; even if he didn’t kill him afterwards. That couldn’t be said about Sabine or Zeb, perhaps even C hopper.  They would tear him apart.

He clenched his jaw, fighting off  tears . Crying over things he had already was useless. It would do him no good. He should probably try to get more familiar with his target.

Admiral, was it? Yes, admiral... admiral... there he was, Ezra smiled victoriously on his  datapad .

_ Admiral  _ _ Fhresa _ _ , human female, born on Corellia 26 years before the rise of The Empire, and in command of “Shrimp task force”. Practically a poster girl of the Empire since about seven years ago; since her promotion to admiral. She is the reason many young people decided to join the Imperial Armed Forces with increasing percentage of females. _

She really did seem popular. Maybe she was nice. And definitely soon-to-be dead.

_ She enjoys popular literature and pre- _ _ Ruusan _ _ poetry. _

Well, she seemed like an intelligent person. That would make her harder to kill.

Ezra stopped. He already accepted her as his target. Oh, so cold and  calculating about someone else’s death. Kanan... NO! No Kanan!

He lowered his head back to the  datapad . There were images of the admiral. She had short hair, not  much longer than typical army haircut , but it distinguished her sharp and surprisingly beautiful features. Had she been about at least twenty-five years younger, he would have tried to woo her. Maybe.

But she was old and what more his target.  Fine, what other hobbies did she have? And how and where and when he could slay her?

\-----

It turned out that on the d ay of Ezra’s arrival on  Serenno was a party held in governor’s mansion. A party which admiral  Fhresa attended as well. Now, if he found a way to sneak in... There might be servants, but there was a big chance they know each other and would bust him. Or perhaps guards? It wouldn’t be much of a surprise, if the governor, especially with the party, was surrounded with stormtroopers. And who could predict, that one of them will turn on one of his guests.

Well, maybe Vader could, but Vader wasn’t there and what more, he had been  sent  by the Sith lord. Oh, yes, poor admiral, killed by a man supposedly loyal to her.

An alarm on the control started screeching. Time to revert to real space. He arrived at  Serenno .

It wasn’t that boring of a trip,  when he found out he had full access to the  holonet . Did you know, that  Purgill could jump to hyperspace? And all those interesting facts about  The Clone Wars, though, some of it was probably tampered with by the Empire.

A Star destroyer approached and hailed him.

“Who is there and state your business,” a strict voice said through the speaker. Ezra hesitated and then thought what an idiot had he been. He should have searched for the Rogue Shadow in I mperial archives, if there was any record of it. Well, he would have to deal with any problems regarding his ship.

“This is Rogue Shadow,” he replied, “a cargo ship. Now empty, but not for long. My  cargo’s on the surface.”

A silence on the other side. But they didn’t start shooting immediately, which was actually very good. If they hadn’t shoot him into smithereens, he would survive from now and on. That would be a stupid death, so much funnier end and he could  end up shot by a stupid Star destroyer.

“You are clear to proceed,” the same strict voice announced. Ezra smiled.

Here we go, my target, he mused to himself and steered his ship to the surface.

\-----

Act normal, act normal, act normal. You a ren’t a Force sensitive assassin, you’re a normal pilot with a cargo ship. No, special cloaking devices, no...

He was an idiot! He could have used his cloaking device to slip past the Star destroyer. Oh, Vader would have his other hand for that, and that only if he was lucky. 

No time for lingering on past mistakes. He should really get some cargo to keep his cover and think of some way to slip into the governor’s residence. He already acquired its plans, now to utilize them. Maybe he could look around for a bit more insight and then do his best thing. Improvise. Improvisation (and the Force) had kept him alive for seven years on the streets; they would help him now. If only he had thought of a way to slip inside right? Well, yes maybe there was a backdoor for servants. Or some window, right? Heights had never stopped him before.

Just like now.

He laid comfortably on a roof of some house with perfect view of north and east side of governor’s residence. There were so many people swarming in and out. How could he get inside unnoticed?

Easily. He had some business to do. If he looked enough like he was there with some pressing tasks, which murdering a certain admiral was, no one would bat an eye. Yes, sure he should have got himself some disguise. The f ace of the presumably dead  Ezra Bridger would be instantly recognized by ISB and then Vader would have trouble, because he tried to hide a Force sensitive from  ol ’  Sheev . Nice.

What could he become, what could he become...? A florist perhaps? There surely would be flower decorations. But no. He had no idea of how to flower. He chuckled.  _ How to flower. _

Perhaps he could get a uniform, steal some nice rank plaque, ensign would be enough, he could be an  aide , after all, and then sneak in. And if he used the Force for the poor admiral, everyone would be looking for a poison. And they would find nothing, awesome, right?

Right. Time to get a uniform.

\-----

He had been right. A hurrying ensign nervously clutching a lone  datapad , might earned him some looks, but some of them were with little interest, the rest pitying. As if he needed their pity; he  wasn't admiral  Fhresa .

Now, he would have to rid of that uniform and hide and wait. And wait. Glorious, he should have waited little longer, before he slipped in. But that would have gone wrong, considering his normal luck. Or better to say, his lack of luck. 

Vader might have said, that there is no such a thing as luck (because there is  only  thr Force ), but he needs both luck and the Force. Yes, he definitely needed both. 

He  noticed, the servants had uniforms as well. No, not uniforms; livery. And there were quite a lot of them. If he  got the livery and then continued to act as if he was doing his job, which he was, he would still remain unnoticed.

When he had been little, or  littler than now, he dreamed of being a spy, infiltrating some secret fiscality. Now, he was trying to get himself into an ordinary party and it was stressful enough. 

He slowed down, reaching  into the minds of the servants.  There was one young, by his thoughts hired only two days ago and with similar build to Ezra. That would be a great target. Ezra discretely followed the servant and guided him with his mind to find some deserted place. 

No one was around. Ezra  waved with his hand and the servant fell unconscious to his arms. Time to switch uniform for a livery. He should probably suit the servant in his stolen uniform, to confuse him and the others. Seemed legit. 

\-----

The livery was surprisingly comfortable. And after checking the pockets, Ezra found servant’s ID. He and Ezra both had dark hair (though different shade) and blue eyes (different shade , again), but there their similarity ended. He would have to pass and he still had the Force. 

Yes, the Force. And probably had some tasks as a servant, if he didn’t want to be  discovered .

\-----

Running around with trays of food, more food, drinks, food again, plates and utensils wasn’t the ideally spent afternoon for Ezra, but if it brought results...

He was bored and his legs hurt from running around all the time, but he fit in well. Just like he needed. No one would suspect a servant who didn’t even serve his poor target. Fine, another Force user might, but there would be none other than him.

And thus, he found himself in a giant ballroom holding a tray with bright green drinks and observing his target. She wore her dress uniform neatly pressed with  he short hair visibly combed. A perfect military lady. 

And there  wa his opportunity. Admiral  Fhresa took a  piece of fish from passing servant’s tray and ate it. 

Ezra counted to ten. Then he reached out with the Force, to her neck and squeezed. Admiral dropped her glass; it shattered. Her hands flew to her neck, trying to fight off the phantom pressure but without any success. She was gasping for her breath as only a little of air could go through her throat. 

Ezra closed his fist completely; it didn’t take long for the admiral to fall down on the floor.

Some of the people woke from their shock and ran to her, trying to help, others were staring in horror. No one would touch the food, after that.

As the life fled from the admiral, Ezra suppressed a smile. Mission accomplished. Now, he had to slip out and get some cargo for his ship. He could always dump it in the hyperspace. Oh, yes, that would be nice, if stormtroopers didn’t begin to swarm into the room, blocking all exits (running out of the window would be too suspicious) and searching the servants. They finally found the unlucky one who served that completely normal fish.

There was a commotion by one of the exits and a young man, boy, burst in. Ezra immediately recognized the servant whose clothes he wore. Now, the fun part begins. How to slip out without being caught. Easy.

For a moment, he thought about murdering the servant too, but that would only rise more suspicions. The death of admiral would be regarded as an assassination. The death of servant wouldn’t be.

He looked around. Exit. Exit. There! An exit where they were letting servants go after scanning them. But nowhere was an exit for guests. They were still all apparently under suspicion. Great that he hadn’t choose to slip in as a guest.

Fine, now to convince everyone around he was the servant of whom he had the ID. That wouldn't be exactly easy as the servant still dressed as en ensign made quite a havoc. But he had the Force. He had the most powerful tool in the universe. Weak-minded stormtroopers and their feeble technology were no challenge for him.

And when was his turn to be scanned, he reached out with the Force to the minds around and they all saw what he needed them to see. Just a servant going out of the ballroom. Or perhaps, they were led to interrogation and out of reach of other potential victims. That would be a smart move. And if that was really the case, he had to run once again.

An opportunity came when the servants were gathered in another hall. If he made a beeline to the windows, he could easily jump out of one. Yes, that would do.

And, to his surprise, it worked. He really hadn't expected that, but that was the easier part. Now, to slip past reinforced guards. But he still had the Force. 

And the Force obeyed his command. He  became shadows , invisible blur of something that could be only seen in the corner of one’s eye. But to keep his cover, he made himself seen, once he got rid of the livery, making his way to the docks. To his ship, like a normal honourable citizen of the Empire.

And again, it worked well. Either he became much more powerful and all of that success could be assigned to his talents or he had an enormous amount of luck. Probably both. And he would need both skill and fortune once again to get his hands on some cargo and get escape  the planet. They had seen his ship coming and they needed to see it leaving. Easy.

Well at least easy to be said. Done? Well, he would have to see.

\-----

“Rogue shadow, please, land in the Bay 1,” a strict voice said  through the speaker. It was the exact same voice as the day before. 

Ezra took a deep breath. He expected that local Imperials would search any ships leaving the planet, hoping to catch admiral’s killer. He was lucky he got himself the cargo. But he had no reason to be afraid, right? He was just a simple hauler, not an assassin. No, he thought with grim  satisfaction , he definitely didn’t squeeze the life out of admiral  Fhresa .

Now, how to make it he won’t be recognized as Ezra Bridger the moment they see him? 

He remembered reading about Force-induced illusions. It was an old and difficult technique and he didn’t practice or even try it before. But if he didn’t want to destroy the whole ship, it was his only chance.

He took a deep breath and brough a memory of his father to the surface. He had very little time to accomplish that. And he would succeed.

He felt, as the ship landed, guided by the autopilot. He opened his eyes. He didn’t know if he looked like Ephraim Bridger, but it just had to work.

It did. 

Something was bound to screw up soon. He was on a luck streak and while it was nice, he didn’t like the promise of a failure. Something would really screw up.

But it wasn’t that time and Ezra Bridger jumped his ship to the hyperspace. Safety.

\-----

The familiar red and fiery surface of  Mustafar was still ugly, when he returned. Not that he expected anything else.

As soon, as he descended the ramp, he stood face to face to Vader. He hesitated for a moment and then dropped to one  knee, his head bowed.

“You did well, my apprentice,” Vader commended the youth. Ezra smiled.

“The news of admiral  Fhresa’s poisoning are all over the  holonet . Clever approach.”

“Thank you, master,” Ezra replied. The pride he felt at Vader’s words. He slightly remembered feeling something similar with Kanan. But Kanan was his past; Vader was present.

“I am pleased, you have adjusted to your new life this well,” Vader continued, “but your new beginning is not yet complete. Therefore, you shall have a new name. From now and on you shall be known as Myrtillus.”

A shiver ran down Ezra’s spine. This was it, the moment of severing last connections to his past life. To the Ghost crew. To people he had cared about. But he didn’t now; at least not much.

“Thank you, master,” Myrtillus said, his voice strained. Something about that felt... wrong, unnerving. And yet, it couldn’t stop the calm feeling flooding his mind. He might have said he finally felt some peace, had he not been a Sith. He  might just call it reassurance.

“Rise and tell me more about your mission,” Vader commanded. As his apprentice stood up, he slowly started walking back to the castle, listening how Myrtillus infiltrated the party. He already knew, that admiral’s death was marked as poisoning, but he needed to know more. It was still possible his apprentice had gotten his hands on some poison and gave it to the admiral. 

As the gates of the castle closed behind Vader and Myrtillus with a loud thud, the apprentice couldn’t help but think, that Ezra Bridger had truly died at Vader’s hands. Vader’s and Myrtillus’s own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and say hi on my [Tumbrl](https://lord-of-void.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Dark

He was standing in a giant hall. Its walls were built of stone lined with purple curtains. Again. He remembered this place, although he had been there only in his dream. And in front of him stood once again his younger self. He still couldn’t be older than seven. 

The younger one came closer to Myrtillus. Then he gently placed his right hand over Myrtillus’s heart; a single tear ran down on his left cheek. 

“Why? Why did you think this was necessary? That it is a solution?” younger Ezra asked, his voice feeble and shaking. 

Myrtillus just stood there, his jaw set and features hard, silent. 

“Had you finally lost your words over yourself?” Ezra added. More tears, crying. “I pity you.” 

\----- 

Myrtillus sat on a pillow in the middle of his chamber; meditating. His mind going over again and again the dream from the last night; finding details, something he might have overlooked in his anger at his younger self. 

But nothing. Only this time he remembered an ornament on those curtains. It had been an insignia of sorts. But he had never seen it before. Otherwise, the hall was bare and simple. Nothing he could use as a lead. 

Was that some kind of message from the Force, something he should beware? Perhaps. And perhaps he should ask Vader and hope his master wouldn’t translate seeing his younger self in dreams as a sign of weakness. 

His right hand clenched on his knee. 

Dark side meditations were different from the light ones. While Jedi and other Light side users let the Force freely flow in them, Sith focused on directing the Force. 

He quickly stood up and headed to the door. Vader won’t kill him, that was for sure. He might harm him, but nothing he would not recover from; Vader needed him. 

When he reached the door of Vader’s meditation chamber, he hesitated. But why? Yes, there was the Sith lord behind that door, but that wasn’t that. No. He was afraid that he would disappoint him. That the man who took him and taught him would condemn his weakness, his failure. But he would have to face him eventually. The sooner, the better. 

He knocked. He was sure Darth Vader had known he was there, before he had even touched the door, but it was polite. And precautious. No need to enrage the Sith. 

“Enter!” deep rumbling voice called from inside. Myrtillus took a deep breath. There was no turning back now. And even if there was, he realized, he would not run. 

“What it is, my apprentice?” Vader asked, as Myrtillus entered and gestured to an empty chair. 

“I... had a strange dream, master,” the apprentice began, when he seated himself. “I saw myself, my younger self. He was talking to me and crying over my choices. We both were in a giant stone hall decorated with purple curtains.” 

Silence. The apprentice was sure, Darth Vader was frowning behind his mask. 

“I don’t know what to make of this dream, young one, but I believe I know where have you been,” he said finally. With those words he reached to a holoprojector on his desk and turned in on. After a while of searching the projection showed a giant hall. Myrtillus couldn’t make out the finer details, but he was still sure it was the same one he had seen in his dream. He nodded at his master. 

“This, my apprentice, is emperor’s throne room in the Imperial center,” Vader explained. 

The apprentice’s breath hitched. Why had he seen that? What purpose it had had, showing him something he might never reach? Or was it a vision of future and past at the same time? Those insignias on curtains had not belonged to the Empire. 

“But, why would I see that out of all things?” he asked Vader. 

“Perhaps it’s a future. Maybe the Force wanted you to see that place for another not yet known reason. I am sure you will understand in time,” the Dark Lord replied. And yet, Myrtillus could sense his thoughts searching for any explanation. 

\----- 

Myrtillus frowned at the datapad he held in his hand. About a week ago Vader had given him a few reports to read through and now, with the last one, he finally understood why. The small skirmishes on the Outer Rim were all related to one certain rebel group. The Phoenix squadron. Did Vader hope he might provide him with an information? He barely remembered the little he learned about them in the short time the Ghost crew was part of it. 

His commlink chirped. Vader. 

He quickly headed to Vader’s quarters, datapad still firmly held in his hand. Before he had the chance to knock on the door of Vader’s meditation chamber, the door opened. 

“There is an urgent matter I have to attend to on the Imperial Centre,” Vader began. He was pacing around, clearly nervous. “Therefore, you will take over my next task. I had been planning to go after the Jedi of the Phoenix squadron. They were lastly spotted on Sullust, as you could read in the reports, I gave you.” 

Myrtillus nodded maintaining silence and waiting for his master to continue. 

“Be careful, Tano is extremely skilled in combat,” Vader warned him. “May the Force serve you well.” 

With those words he stormed from the chamber, probably heading to his shuttle. 

Myrtillus took a deep breath. If he met the Jedi on Sulust, he would not only face Ahsoka Tano, but Kanan Jarrus as well. And perhaps that was his ultimate test. To face the one, he had used to call master. 

Time to head to Sullust. 

\----- 

He set down his ship in a dock on the planet’s surface. The more he behaved like someone normal, the bigger chance was he wouldn’t be discovered. Well, no one could be ever sure about those things with the Ghost crew. 

With his extensive clearance codes, he got into local imperial log and read on arriving ships. And there it was. VCX-100 freighter that arrived two days ago. Its further identification didn’t match the Ghost, but since it could scramble its signature, it definitely was a good reason for investigation. Just looking around would be enough. He was sure Kanan didn’t know how to hide his presence in the Force, though, Tano might have taught him. 

He left the dock, where his ship was, like a normal imperial citizen. The moment he was from the view he slipped into a dark alley and then to the roofs. He pulled his hood deep into his face and the shawl around his neck up to cover his mouth and nose. No one would recognize him for who he had been. 

He hid his Force signature, wrapping it in the Force, becoming invisible. When he was sure, he wouldn’t be detected he jogged across the roofs to the dock where the supposed Ghost was. He was lucky. He arrived just in time to see Zeb, Kanan and Tano leave the ship. Now he only had to follow them and find out, what were they up to. And he could perhaps plant a tracker on the Ghost, too. Just in case. 

When he was sure, they were out of his way, he elegantly jumped from the roof to the backside of the Ghost, with a small device in his hand. This was really too easy. Now, the hunt. 

He jumped back to the roofs and followed the bright signatures of Kanan and Tano. When he caught up, he saw they split up; Zeb was nowhere to be seen. 

He hesitated. Did he want to kill them? No. He actually didn’t. And would his master approve of that? No. And his for now remaining hand probably not as well. 

He should take care of the Lasat first, but... he didn’t want to harm him, if it wasn’t necessary. So, Jedi first. When they turned to a small alley, obviously searching for something, he followed them and then silently jumped down from the roof. 

Both Jedi briskly turned and instinctively reached for their weapons. Tano for lightsabers, Kanan for his blaster. 

“I’m not here to fight,” Myrtillus said calmly. His voice had somewhat changed in the time with Vader, perhaps the acidic atmosphere of the Mustafar was to be blamed and it was muffled by the shawl as well. There was no way they would recognize him by his voice. 

“Then what do you want?” Tano asked. 

“Just a question, nothing more,” Myrtillus replied her lightly and smiled behind his shawl. “What are you doing on Sullust?” 

“Why would we tell you that?” Kanan inquired. “We don’t know you and you refuse to show your face. We don’t trust you.” 

“Who I am or what my face looks like is not important. The important thing is I was tasked to find out, what you’re doing on Sullust. So?” 

“Who gave you this task?” Tano said, her voice sharp. 

“I believe that’s not your business.” 

Ahsoka quickly thrust her right arm forward and then to the left, as if she wanted to slam Myrtillus against the wall with the Force. Myrtillus only held his shields and felt the wave go around him. 

Then he started laughing. “Did you really think that would be of any use to you? I’m sorry for you, Tano. I really am.” 

"Now, I’m really interested in you,” she stated and reached for her lightsabers. 

“Oh, come on,” Mystillus groaned, “I thought we could perhaps resolve this peacefully.” 

Tano charged. 

When she was only a meter from Myrtillus with her lightsabers raised, he spun around, igniting his own red blade and slicing against her. By her small cry of pain, he knew he had hit her. But the injury probably wasn’t anything serious. However, he had not time to contemplate his small success, because Kanan was charging right at him. They exchanged few blows, before Myrtillus slipped aside dodging Tano’s blow, that then almost landed on Kanan. They were so useless together. 

He thrust his left hand forward and sent Kanan flying backwards, where he crashed into a wall. He fell to the ground, unconscious. Tano growled. Myrtillus could feel her emotions stirring, preparing to be unleashed. He was honestly amazed how well she kept them in place. His amazement didn’t last long, nevertheless. Tano’s barrage of blows, despite her injury on her left thigh, had him on retreat. But not for long. 

He switched his lightsaber from right hand to the left, effectively blocking Tano’s blow coming from his left and caught her left wrist with his right. His mechanical grip was eventually too much for Togruta’s bones. The apprentice smiled cruelly, though it was hidden by his shawl, at the nasty crack he heard. The lightsaber fell from her hand and Myrtillus caught it. A kick into Tano’s stomach sent her flying to the wall behind her. 

The apprentice clipped her lightsaber to his belt and clenched his right wrist, cutting most of Togruta’s air supply. 

“Now, tell me, why are you here? I might just let you go afterwards,’ he hissed into her face. 

“You’re not an Inquisitor,” Tano stated instead. 

“That’s not relevant. My question, however, is,” the apprentice snapped at her. 

And then he felt terrible pain in his groin; the Togruta had kicked him in his... He might have toppled a little, but with a growl he ignited his lightsaber ready to attack Tano, only to be the one pinned against the wall with lightsaber maybe too near to his neck. Had the weapon been a little closer, his clothing would catch on fire. Which luckily didn’t happen. He felt, as Tano took her lightsaber back from his belt. 

Then she reached to his face with her broken left hand and sharply pulled the shawl from his face followed closely by his hood. 

She stared in a shock to the face of Ezra Bridger twisted with anger and adorned by two bright yellow eyes. 

“I asked you something, Tano,” he said as if he wasn’t the one pinned on the wall. “What are you doing here?” 

“Ezra Bridger? What happened to you?” 

“Vader did, if you’re asking. And I am glad for that,” he retorted. 

“How could you be glad to become a monster?” she asked, sadness almost tangible in her voice. 

“Monster? That’s how do you see me? Why such a strong word?” To Ahsoka’s dismay, he was smiling. Was there nothing of Ezra Bridger left in this... This whatever? 

“Yes, I am.” Something different than mocking arrogance appeared on his face, but only for such a short time she couldn’t make it out. 

“Is there anything left of you, Ezra?” she pleaded. 

“Didn’t you read the official report?” he inquired. “Someone with your slicing skills would probably get it.” Ahsoka nodded. 

“Then know it was true, Ezra Bridger died in the hands of Darth Vader.” 

“But...” she began, her voice shaking, “we were searching for you, trying to figure out how to get to Mustafar even after that report came out. We lost people in our attempts...” 

“And why are you telling me this? It’s not like it would help me or anything. Or are you willing to share some information with me?” Myrtillus asked lightly. 

“And you?” Tano replied with hope. 

“I’m not sharing,” the apprentice scowled back at the Togruta, “and definitely not with you.” 

And then, to his surprise, Tano switched off her lightsaber. “Go,” she commanded him. “Go and think.” 

Myrtillus hesitated. Then he felt as Kanan began to wake up. He turned and ran and ran and ran. 

\----- 

“They overpowered you, you say?” Vader growled from his height above Myrtillus’s head. 

“Yes, master,” the apprentice replied with as steady voice as he could manage. 

“That actually doesn’t surprise me as much. Two inquisitors had failed against them, and while you’re already more, than them, Tano is very skilled as a former apprentice of Skywalker.” 

Myrtillus had a hard time keeping his smile from his face at his delight. Vader wouldn’t punish him. He was glad Vader couldn’t see his face, though, in his kneeling position with head bowed. 

“But I actually managed to score against them,” the apprentice said. When Vader said nothing, he continued: “I placed a tracker on their ship, the Ghost and made sure they will not discover it too soon.” 

“Did you? That definitely is something, my apprentice,” Vader commended Myrtillus. He saw, as his master reached somewhere, perhaps to his table? Something flew into Vader’s hand, he felt it in the Force. “I believe you not only deserve this, but will use it greatly as well,” Vader stated and handed that thing to Myrtillus. 

The apprentice lifted his head and saw a glowing red and gold pyramid. It looked kind of like Kanan’s holocron, except it was red and it felt differently in the Force. 

“That is a sith holocron, apprentice. It was constructed by Darth Revan thousands of years ago. Use it well.” 

Myrtillus reached for the pyramid; it felt warm in his hand. 

“Thank you, master.” 

\----- 

Inhale, exhale. 

Repeat. 

If not peace, then at least balance, harmony. 

The glowing holocron lifted itself from Myrtillus’s hand and opened. 

“Who are you? Who dares to open my holocron?” a deep male voice said from the holocron. 

“I dare. My name is Myrtillus,” the apprentice said, his voice firm and unwavering. 

“You dare!” the voice in the holocron hissed. “And yet I sense you’re just an apprentice. Aspiring high, are you?” 

“Yes. But what is your name?” Murtillus replied. 

“I am Darth Revan,” the holocron growled. The apprentice was quite sure he had seen it shake slightly. 

An image, no a projection, appeared in front of the holocron. A hooded man wearing an armor, his face hidden by a mask. 

“Tell me, apprentice, what knowledge do you seek?” the Sith lord asked. 

“Tell me about the most powerful ability.” 

“That is a tough question, young one,” Revan said, amusement clear in his voice, “but I suppose one of such abilities, for there are many, is a battle meditation. That ability will allow you to see to the immediate future far more clearly while in combat, command masses and give them more resolve, or even break your opponents’ will, if you know, how to do so properly.” 

He paused for a moment, letting Myrtillus to think about his words. 

And Myrtillus was thinking. If he ever wanted to achieve his ends, he needed every possible tool. He might sway on his and Vader’s side some allies, but more would still stand by the emperor. And such an ability as the battle mediation would help to even the strength a little. 

“Please, lord Revan, teach me about this ability,” the apprentice told the Sith lord. Then he got a feeling, had Revan not wore a mask, he would have smiled. 

“With pleasure, young one,” Darth Revan replied. “The battle meditation, as I said before, is an ability to affect your forces to be more ferocious and more ruthless while weakening enemy’s will. In order to achieve that, you need to be able to reach far across the space with your will. Now, focus, close your eyes and try to concentrate on seeing with the Force. If you’re blind, the dark side will serve you as your eyes. Your connection to the physical world and then minds of others.” 

Myrtillus took a deep breath and reached out with his consciousness. He was suddenly aware of the holocron levitating in front of him, his bed, a table, the walls of his room, the corridor behind the door, Vader’s dark chilling presence, the whole castle and caves below. Flows of lava instead of his blood, the rock of a planet in the place of his bones. 

He took another deep breath and the whole planet shivered. 

He could feel the minds of crew of the Devastator on the planet’s orbit; if he wanted, he could make them obey commands of his mind. 

“Very good, young one,” Revan commented. Myrtillus barely heard him as the voice of one, though powerful one, was almost nothing in comparison to the sound of everything. 

“Now, touch their minds more closely,” Revan continued. 

\----- 

Working on the flagship of Lord Vader was usually quite a stressful job, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle if you were competent. And admiral Theemia praised himself to have at least enough competence to survive seven months. Little did he know, that was partially to be blamed at his slight Force sensitivity, but it wasn’t enough to be even considered taking by Jedi order. 

He was just walking on the bridge of the Devastator when a shiver ran down his spine. That wasn’t anything unusual in the presence of Darth Vader, but he was sure his commander was on the surface and not sneaking on the ship. He might have blamed it on the broken thermo regulation but he just read the report it had been repaired. 

Something was wrong. 

Wrong. 

White. 

Fire. Pain. Some terrible sound piercing his ears. 

\----- 

The bridge crew turned just in time to see their commander falling to the ground, screaming and holding his chest. Few ran to him, trying to help. 

But he wasn’t breathing. 

Someone called the medical team. Captain Grinn pressed his fingers at the side of Admiral’s neck. Then he ripped Admiral’s uniform apart and started pressing his chest. A cracking sound. 

Was that a poison? Like with Admiral Fhresa? Sure, they were on Vader’s ship, but the admiral so far received only praise. He might had done something, they weren’t informed about... 

And the terrible almost unbreathable air. Someone coughed. What happened with the air? Why they couldn’t breathe? Maybe it was the shock and panic. 

\----- 

A loud bang as the door to Myrtillus’s room exploded. And there stood Darth Vader. 

The apprentice opened his eyes; the holocron fell to the ground. 

“Don’t you dare to kill my people!” Vader roared with all his might of destroyed vocal cords. Myrtillus was thrown against the wall, his head hit it with a loud crack. 

“I... I wasn’t...” 

“You WERE!” Vader interrupted him. There was a pressure on Myrtillus’s neck, but he could still breathe quite comfortably. “You were killing my officers aboard the Devastator! The admiral was one of the more competent. What did you think you were doing?” 

“I was trying... trying, you know, minds, like, touch them, you know? I was learning from the holocron you gave me and it, just, kinda, well, happened. It told me to touch their minds and I did so and... I swear I didn’t, I didn’t want them to die! Really. It just...” 

He fell to the ground, to his knees. When he looked up to Vader, he saw bright crimson light right in front of his face, its heat making him flinch. 

“Now, listen, apprentice,” Vader hissed, “never ever try something like this, is that clear? You have no right to kill my men. They did nothing to you. But if you ever do such a thing outside of your orders you will regret ever crossing your path with me.” 

“Yes, master. I understand,” Myrtillus replied, trying to make his voice as steady as possible; failing. The lightsaber neared his face even little more, the small space between his eyebrows burning. Hopefully it won’t scar much. 

“Do you?” the Sith lord asked. “Or are you just telling me that lie to sate my rage?” 

Myrtillus stayed silent, looking firmly into his master’s red lenses; waiting. Maybe he was walking a thin line, but he needed to. He still was his own person. He might be pleased with killing imperials, as it was them, who took away his family, but he understood, what Vader said. That didn’t mean, he wouldn’t do it again. 

“Don’t ever think you can lie to ME AGAIN, BOY!” Vader roared. 

The bright crimson pain moved from side to side. 

Red, black. 

Pain. White and burning. 

Sound. Screaming? 

Up? Where was that. Something gold touched his face. Was it his hand? Or the ground? 

Steps. But getting more and more silent. Vader was leaving. 

Leaving him. 

Like people always did. 

Alone. 

Pain. 

In the dark. 

Literally. 

Dark. No light. Not even stars. He always saw them, when he closed his eyes. 

Where was he? Where was the Force? 

Dark. 

Pain. 

He lifted his left hand and touched his face. It didn’t feel like his. 

And it hurt. Burned. 

Dark. The only thing he had now, when even his master, mentor had left him. 

Pain. 

Breathe. 

He clenched his jaw in rage. He wanted to kill him. Peel that damned suit of Vader and tear him apart. 

But he had to get up, to do so. Where was up? 

Perhaps try to go from the cold on his cheek, right cheek. Yes, that thing there felt like a stone. 

And he was still in his room. 

Yes, room. Alone. In the dark. 

Breathe! 

He got this, his could stand. And that was all. He was useless to Vader, now; he would be lucky to be just killed. 

His legs felt slightly wobbly under him, but he could walk. At least to find a door or perhaps his bed. One step at the time. One step... 

His foot collided with something and it clinked. The holocron! 

And then, despite the pain, the darkness all around him, he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and say hi on [Tumbrl](lord-of-void.tumbrl.com)!


	4. Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's few day late and it's shorter. Sorry.  
> But there I have grand plans for the few next!

Part 4  
What was hunger? What thirst meant? What was the body he still resided in but a vortex of the dark side, meant to carry him till his death? His all-powerful vessel destined to help him, his spirit, get revenge on everyone who had ever wronged him? His body, the only thing preventing him from becoming the Force itself. The destroying darkness.  
\-----  
He was meditating, aware of the holocron floating in front of him, the cold stone floor he was sitting on, a new door and walls, his bed, table. He was aware how far they all were. Aware. That was the right word as he couldn’t see anymore. But he didn’t need his eyes. The dark side showed him the world around.   
It was like the first lesson with Revan, he just had to be more careful from then to not kill someone. At least not when Vader was around.  
As he reached out, spreading his consciousness far beyond the walls of his room, he could feel a presence trying to touch his mind. The presence was weak as if it was far from him, but at the same time... It was scary, the thought someone out there was so powerful.  
“Very well, young one,” Revan commended the apprentice’s work. “Now, stand up and get your lightsaber.”  
The apprentice reached with his right hand in the direction of his bed and a sleek metallic cylinder flew into his grasp.  
“Ignite it and take the Ataru stance.”  
The apprentice planted his feet, brought the lightsaber in front of him and ignited the crimson blade. He felt the blade was there, absorbed its heat, but could not see it. Not anymore.  
Energy trickled beneath his skin at the thought of Vader’s blade taking his vision, at the memory of the pain his master brought him. He took the energy, the raw rage and tamed it; it would have no use, had he let it rage on its own.  
“Go on,” the ancient Sith lord heeled the apprentice, and the young man slashed forward with his weapon, the dark side guiding his steps.  
\-----  
He smiled. Pleased. He was growing unseen by his creator. Powerful. The apprentice would help him hunt the survivors down.  
\-----  
To be honest, Darth Vader had never expected his apprentice would recover from the injury he had sustained. And yet, he felt him reaching out not in a plea for help, but with a resolve to perceive again. It was truly admirable, that his apprentice would rise again, when even Vader had condemned him. But who was Vader to even think so? His injuries hadn’t stopped him.  
It was time to do something about him.  
\-----  
The overwhelming mass of cold was getting closer. And in that freezing storm was focused around one form. A man. Darth Vader. It could be a question, why he was nearing the Apprentice’s quarters, but a question required a desire for an answer. And, to be honest, the Apprentice didn’t care.  
His master had given up on him and let him be on Mustafar for no obvious reason. His deafening presence might be distracting, but not enough to stop the lightsaber practice.  
He did not fear stepping into darkness, without ability to see his surroundings, anymore. The Darkness was him and he was darkness. He did not need to see to know, to live.  
Just as he jumped into the air doing a twist to the left, the door opened and he lost his balance and landed so inelegantly both Vader and Revan snorted at that.  
“What do you want?” the Apprentice spat at Darth Vader.  
“I am here to supervise your progress, apprentice,” the Sith lord replied. The apprentice waved his hand in the direction of the holocron and the device closed and the dim red light went out.  
“My progress? Didn’t you give up on me, master? You blinded me and left me in confusion and suffering,” the Apprentice retorted.  
“And yet, here you are, standing and stronger than before,” Vader commented.  
“It wasn’t your doing that made me so,” the Apprentice smirked. Oh, yes, how he had enjoyed needling the Sith.  
“Mind your words, Myrtillus,” Vader growled and threateningly stepped forward. The Apprentice stood unmoving, arrogance seething from his posture.  
“Or what? Will you cut off one of my remaining limbs? Or perhaps toss me into a lava?”  
Darth Vader stepped back and his stand visibly calmed. “No. Tomorrow at seven hundred be on the patio, I will continue your training. You might be powerful, Darth Myrtillus, but it’s still not enough.”  
\-----  
Careful light steps, the familiar humming sound right in his face, the dark turmoil all around, freezing mass in front of him. The cold charged, he jumped aside and slashed. He knew missed but he felt as his master was forced to step backwards.  
The apprentice used that to his advantage and charged. The Sith lord had to retreat slightly under the barrage of blows. Then he dug his heels and began returning the attack.   
Myrtillus tried to step back a little but there was this rock laying on the patio and it was big enough to be tripped over. And therefore, the apprentice tripped over said rock. He fell flat on his back, his head hit the ground, stars in front of his eyes that could no longer see, the familiar heat over his neck accompanied by a soft hum.  
He stayed lying, trying to get a grasp on the Force again, but everything was dizzy. And how could he not sense that blasted piece of pumice? Something felt wrong, air, flying... Was he lifted? Where, how...  
\-----  
That place felt familiar. It was in no way his room, but he had been there before. The infirmary. It smelled the same.  
The rock, crack; spinning. The duel. He remembered.  
He reached out, searching for the cold storm; he found it on one of the spires. And he should get up, he hadn’t been unconscious for that long, wasn’t he? And it wasn’t that terrible crack. But the moment, he tried to sit up, his head started spinning. He hit something soft; pillow.  
The cold storm was on the move, getting nearer.  
Was that the moment Vader would give up on him once and for all?  
And then, he heard the mechanical breathing, the cold reaching to him; he pushed it away, strengthening his shields. His damned head might be still spinning, but he was capable of that.  
“Good to see you awake,” Vader said to his apprentice, amusement on the apprentice’s effort clear in his voice.  
“How long was I out?” the apprentice asked.  
“A day. And once your head stops spinning, we’re going to train again.”  
Myrtillus sighed. It was just like Vader to have him training the moment he wouldn’t fall on his lightsaber. But at the same time, he was grateful. Being strained in the infirmary was not his idea of spending time. It was too calm, there.  
\-----  
The ground under his feet felt solid. Clear all around. He wouldn’t make such a mistake again as not paying attention where he was stepping.  
It might be poetic to say that the air was still and the star was shining through the coverage of clouds. But there was a slight breeze playing with his hair. And he had no way of seeing if the star could be seen. Well, yes, he could always ask Vader, but why would he do that? He did not need to know.  
He felt the person standing in front of him. Not Vader, but a rogue Inquisitor caught again. They didn’t feel like a human to him in the Force. For a moment, he wondered if the Inquisitor had struck a deal with Vader; fight and be spared or die now. It wouldn’t be surprising.  
The apprentice felt as the Inquisitor ignited their lightsaber and launched forward; his weapon remained untouched on his belt. Instead, he recalled a technique Revan had taught him, concentrating on the Darkness around, within him. It was swirling, waiting to be unleashed, to destroy.  
He raised his left hand and a storm of lightning was unleashed on the surprised Inquisitor. Myrtillus smirked as he heard their screams both with his ears and in the Force.   
He cut of the lightning and casually walked to the Inquisitor, as they tried to get up. Their characteristic handle of a lightsaber flew into Myrtillus’s right hand.  
“I really supposed you would be more of a challenge,” he commented, ignited the blade and stabbed down.   
A whimper of pain as the bright red blade ran through Inquisitor’s abdomen, missing their heart and lungs leaving them to slow death.  
Myrtillus turned in the direction where he sensed Vader.  
“What was this about?” he called. The cold storm got nearer.  
“That, my apprentice, was a test. You’ve grown in your power and abilities. I believe we will accomplish our task one day.”  
\-----  
It had been one year, two months and five days, since that damned day on Lothal.  
Kanan counted. Kanan always counted that. Just like he did after the death of his master, but he lost the count after too many days with too much alcohol in his blood.   
He would not allow it to happen the same that time.   
He scribbled a tally mark on his wall. It was covered with them and still more and more were coming. And wouldn’t stop until they got Ezra back. No matter the imperial report, he still felt him in the Force, alive.  
But was he still in Vader’s hands on Mustafar? Or was he unlucky and in the emperor's clutches? The death might have been better, then.  
He sat down on his bunk, thinking. Since they had returned from Sullust, something was different. Ahsoka was different.  
Since they had met the mysterious darksider. Who were they? And why had they been hunting them? We’re they with the Empire? Perhaps. And of course, they had gotten away.   
But Ahsoka knew something. And he needed to know what.   
Kanan abruptly stood up and quickly crossed the distance between the bunk and a door. Then through the Ghost into the Phoenix nest and to small Ahsoka’s quarters.   
He knocked, waiting. He knew Ahsoka was inside as he could feel her presence there.   
“Come in, Kanan!” sounded from inside.   
When he entered, he noticed the Togruta sitting on her bunk, cross-legged, with his holocron in front of her. Studying, then.  
“I have a question for you I really need to ask,” Kanan began when he seated himself on a spare chair.  
“Go on.”  
“Something happened on Sullust to you. The guy... Assassin or whomever told you something when I was out. I know it’s bothering you and I need to know. And they also found the Ghost among other ships and installed a tracker here,” Kanan told Ahsoka, his tone sharp.  
Ahsoka stayed silent, thinking and when she finally took a deep breath to start talking, both their comlinks chirped.   
“Bridge, now,” Hera ordered them curtly through the line and it went silent.  
“I’ll expect that explanation later, understood?”Kanan snapped at Ahsoka. She only nodded in response.  
\-----  
When they arrived on the bridge, the command was gathered around the holotable.  
“We’ve received a transmission from supposedly Fulcrum,” Commander Sato announced. Ahsoka stopped frozen in her place.  
“Play it!” she said. The Commander reached to a button and a picture of some unknown insignia appeared above the table.  
“This is Fulcrum. By the end of the third month Lord Vader Will join his own Death squadron with the Seven fleet and will sweep the Outer Rim, even the officially loyal ones. They will keep out from the Mid Rim. May the Force serve you well.”  
The message ended. The voice was altered and didn’t sound like anyone known to them. And yet, Ahsoka supported herself against the holotable.  
“Are you alright?” Kanan asked, hurrying to her side, ready to help her.  
“I know them,” she breathed out. “And I’ve never thought they would help us.”  
“Who is it?” Commander Sato asked.  
“I can’t tell as it would get them killed,” Ahsoka replied, her voice calm again.  
“And how do you know it’s someone you know? It could easily be anyone,” Sabine insisted.  
“You are right, but I am sure about my statement. As well as I am sure we should trust them.”  
Kanan shivered slightly as he caught a feeling coming from Ahsoka. Hope, happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> If you found some stupid typos, write me in the comments.  
> And come and say hi on my [Tumbrl](https://https://lord-of-void.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
